


(It Burns) Like Heroin

by sleep_and_feel_no_pain



Category: Slipknot (Band), Stone Sour
Genre: Anal Sex, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Non-Explicit Sexual Content, Relationship Issues, mentions of past relationships - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-23
Updated: 2019-05-23
Packaged: 2020-03-10 00:59:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 995
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18928090
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sleep_and_feel_no_pain/pseuds/sleep_and_feel_no_pain
Summary: Corey shows up at Jim’s house. The same way he always does. And the show must go on.





	(It Burns) Like Heroin

**Author's Note:**

> This is the sequel to my story, “Take a Bow”, and follows along the same storyline.

_”In a word, in a phrase, it’s a movie, you’re the star. So smile for the camera, it’s your big scene - you know your lines.” ~~Richard Siken_

 

It’s been awhile now, and Jim’s almost managed to let himself forget. Or at the very least, he’s let it all go dormant in his memory.

In fact, it doesn’t even cross his mind when he answers the door some humid and rainy night. But there he is. Corey. Standing with his head slightly cocked, his posture deflated. Raindrops cling to his lashes, which flutter with their weight.

Beaten. Downtrodden. And Jim can’t help the way his heart seizes in his chest for just a moment. 

Corey doesn’t say anything. Just stares up at him, his blue eyes narrowed and full of sorrow and… something else. Jim doesn’t wanna think about what that something else is. Because that something makes a lump come to his throat, makes his heartbeat start up like a shot of electricity to a deadened cell, pounding again.

Instead, Jim hesitates. The minute stretches out and seems to last an eternity while Jim searches his memory for the opening line. He settles on one, and it comes out more rough than usual, like Jim’s been swallowing razor blades. “You comin’ in?”

Corey doesn’t respond. Not verbally, anyway, and Jim already knew he wouldn’t. He steps to the side as Corey’s head bobs once and he squeezes past Jim’s larger frame, into Jim’s house. Jim follows him, pushing the door closed and locking the bolt behind him.

“Joey?” Jim asks, the single word soft and edged with hurt. He tries to push the barrage of images of Corey and Joey wrapped around one another back into their box inside his head, but it’s too late. He sees the way Corey’s shoulders tense slightly, and knows it’s what’s brought Corey here. 

It’s what always brings Corey here. He’s used to it by now.

Jim starts to make coffee without another word as Corey skitters to the other side of his table, sitting down, hunching over and shivering a little. And Jim can’t help the way the awful look of misery on Corey’s face tugs at his heartstrings, and makes tears prickle at the backs of his eyes. 

He doesn’t allow them to come. Traps them efficiently behind his veil of indifference. He’s nothing by now if not well-rehearsed.

“Do you want a towel?” Jim goes through the motions, the lines and actions branded onto his brain until he has no choice but to act them out. He doesn’t even wait for an answer. He makes his way to the laundry room, snagging a thick towel from the basket of freshly-laundered clothing and brings it back.

Corey’s not in his chair anymore. Jim isn’t surprised at all when Corey’s hands grab him roughly as he comes back into the kitchen, and the towel drops to the floor at their feet. The yelp leaves his throat anyway as Corey’s lips crash into his own. Just like every time before. Rough and bruising. The punishment, he knows, meant for Joey. That he will take for Joey.

And Corey’s walking him backwards down the hall, pushing him against walls and ripping clothing as they go, tossing them carelessly in a trail on the floor. It occurs to Jim, just for a second, that they’re already entering the second act, but he’s sure that Corey’s skipped lines along the way. 

Maybe Corey’s just not in the mood to say them. Not in the mood to convince Jim all over again that he loves him and wants to try again. The thought is almost enough make Jim push Corey away, but it’s too late now - far too late, when Corey’s already pushing him down onto the bed and stripping off his own clothes. 

Jim lets Corey work his magic. Lets his mind go fuzzy along with his vision. He lets the white noise drown out the warning bells screeching in the back of his mind as Corey slides over him. Lets himself sink down into that golden warmth, floating along as Corey’s fingerprints mark themselves in Jim’s pale flesh. Corey bites his way into his mouth, and it hits his brain with all the burn and sting of a needle in his veins.

And they fall together just like they always do, with Corey pushing his legs back and moaning deeply as he enters Jim. Jim’s body twists and writhes with the pleasure as he begs Corey for more. This scene, for sure, the most replayed between them of all the ones they have, the performance polished and perfect, and it smoothes out all the jagged edges of their pieces as they try to force them together.

The chemistry is electric, just like always, and it’s addicting in a way that Jim just can’t turn away. They work their way smoothly to the climax of the scene, and slowly, slowly, they float down together, a mess of tangled limbs and heated flesh. And for the moment, Jim can almost convince himself that it’s perfect. That for all their imperfections, they’ve got all they need right here, in this moment. If only they could remain here forever, pause the scene at the end and live out their days in suspended animation.

But willing it is just not enough, and when it’s all over, Jim lays on his back and watches the smoke from his cigarette billow in intricate patterns as it floats towards the ceiling. Corey’s quiet beside him, cuddled close to his side.

“I love you.” Corey says, and Jim can hear the sincerity in the words. He can also hear the lie.

“I love you too.” Jim whispers, before snuffing out the white stick between his fingers. Effectively ending the scene.

The curtain of his eyelids close and plunges him into darkness. And Jim can’t help wishing, can’t help hoping, that their story could be amended to have a happy ending.


End file.
